His Decisions
by Meridas
Summary: Jack's the boss because he makes the decisions they can't. That doesn't mean they don't tear him apart. Unexpectedly, the least likely person on his team is the one to offer solace.


_Set directly after 'Small Worlds'. Also teeny tiny spoilers for 'Cyberwoman'. I don't own Torchwood (duh)_

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Jack started slightly as a slender hand set a glass tumbler in front of him. He looked up abruptly in time to catch Ianto's profile as he was turning away. Jack lifted the glass of amber liquid. "Not worth the effort to make coffee?"

He regretted the bite in his words, but it had already stopped Ianto's retreating footsteps. Jack looked up at him, raising his eyes defiantly to meet the scorn and cold anger he knew would be there.

"I thought you looked like you could use something stronger, sir," the young man said calmly, facing Jack without either. Jack stared at him as Ianto's mouth quirked into a small, sad smile as he offered, "but I could make some, if that's what you'd rather."

"Um…" Jack cleared his throat. "If you don't mind." His disbelieving gaze followed the young man across the Hub, as he went through the familiar coffee process. Jack wondered with a surprising flicker of amusement if Ianto really could make coffee in his sleep. If the kid even slept anymore. It seemed like he was always here now— just yesterday morning, hadn't Jack said, "You shouldn't be here," to the quiet reply of "Neither should you."

Maybe Ianto was right. Maybe he'd been here too long, underground, in the Hub, surrounded by impersonal work and resigned to wait… perhaps he was losing something.

Ianto paused in the doorway, letting his gaze linger on the shadow of a hero. Jack's blue eyes had been missing their normal shine ever since the silence had descended on the Hub. Tosh had told Ianto, concisely and professionally, what had happened to the Chosen One — what Jack had done. Then she, Gwen, and Owen and stormed away, leaving Jack alone. Except for Ianto. The irony of it all was not lost on him; but in the last few weeks, things had begun to change for Ianto. He still couldn't help but haunt the Hub at all hours, bury himself in work to avoid the nightmares waiting at his flat. But quite unexpectedly, his little painful island was slowly reconnecting to real life. The numb miasma around him might be lifting, slowly.

Just with a touch.

He remembered the warmth of Jack's hand on his shoulder. Just a few seconds that no one else would probably recall, but it was a lifeline to him. Ianto had had friends at Torchwood One — all his life, actually. He'd usually been the quiet one, but never truly alone. Simple contact with another human being wasn't something he had expected to miss. He also hadn't expected to be drawn to Jack like a moth to flame — _probably get burned just like a moth to flame _— and the last thing he'd expected was to feel any kind of desire to rekindle the light in his eyes.

It made him a liar, again — but he'd been that and worse before. At least this lie only betrayed his own anger, no one else. It was something he was more than willing to let go of. Grief was a funny thing like that, and Ianto knew now that Jack knew it — perhaps better than most. The darkness behind those blue eyes did not belong to a stranger to grief… nor guilt.

"It wasn't your fault, Jack."

Four words that Jack had heard before, and would undoubtedly hear again. Sometimes he would believe it; and sometimes not. Sometimes he needed to hear it to believe it.

Jack's eyes focused on him slowly. "You know what happened?"

"I know everything." The quip slipped from him unexpectedly, along with a tiny smile. It brought a raised eyebrow out of Jack's stormy expression, so Ianto chalked it as a success. He walked around the desk this time, handing one cup of coffee to Jack and wrapping his hands around his own.

Jack took his feet off the spare chair in front of him and gestured for Ianto to have a seat, gazing speculatively at the young man. "So you know what I did."

"Yes."

Jack gazed into his coffee cup as if seriously wondering whether it was poisoned. Ianto wasn't sure if he felt trusted or worried when the Captain took a long drink.

Ianto tapped his fingers lightly against his cup. "Why did you do it?" he asked quietly.

Jack looked up at him sharply. "I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice,"' Ianto replied calmly, despite his racing heart. It was a gamble, making Jack admit this — but he knew that Jack would only forgive himself if he said it out loud. "So why did you do it? What was the other option?"

"Let them destroy the world," Jack snapped, his voice hoarse. "It was one person — one innocent little girl who didn't know any better — or the rest of the planet."

Ianto nodded slightly. "I'm not in any position to judge you, sir," he said very quietly. "And neither are the others, but it's good of you to let them pretend that they are."

Jack looked up at him again, his face shrouded in a play of light and shadows filtering through the office. "What do you mean?" the Captain asked him, his voice still quiet and hoarse.

Ianto met those washed-out, darkened blue eyes. What a contradiction of a man he could be sometimes, he mused. "We can't judge your decisions if we don't make them," he murmured. "Or…" he couldn't meet Jack's eyes any more. "Or if we make them and decide wrong."

He didn't see Jack's hand stretch out and brush the back of his own. He jumped a little at the touch, and for a moment he and Jack stared at each other again. Ianto suppressed a tremor — not one of anger or disgust, but a strange mixture of things he couldn't, didn't want to analyze too closely. It came down to relief, though, and a tiny warm spark of pleasure, just that tiny bit of benevolent contact.

"I can't blame you for that, either," Jack told him quietly, seriously. "If I condemned you for loving someone I would be a monster." His voice turned bitter and he pulled his hand away.

Ianto caught it, to the surprise of both men. "You're not, though," Ianto told him, insistent. "And you can't condemn yourself, either. Your only problem, Jack, is that you care too much. But you still know your responsibilities, and so you make the choices that we can't bring ourselves to, even though it tears you apart. As flaws go, it's not such a bad one." He swallowed self-consciously, and realized that Jack was staring at him. "I-if you don't mind my saying so, sir."

For the first time in hours, Jack smiled. "Nah, I think that's insubordination, but I can forgive it." He curved his free hand along Ianto's cheek: surprisingly gentle, essentially innocent yet somehow intimate, and Ianto's first instinct was to close his eyes and lean into the warmth of it. "Thank you," Jack whispered.

Ianto smiled back, carefully still in control of himself, though he just knew his ears would be turning red. As if of its own accord, Jack's thumb rubbed softly at his cheekbone, and the young archivist found an opportunity to raise an eyebrow. "Did you ever actually read Torchwood's harassment policy, sir?" he teased gently. But he didn't pull away, because it was only a familiar joke, now; because now there was light in Jack's eyes, and for a brief moment before Jack chuckled and dropped his hands Ianto had felt a warm touch again.

Jack quirked an eyebrow at him. "If you're gonna go to the effort of paperwork, you could at least make it worth it." He finished with a grin that suggested so many things, one of which was that he was back to normal. Ianto, another master of the mask, knew that it would take more than coffee and confused reassurances, but that Jack would get there. He returned the smile with one eyebrow and just a flash of a smirk — then he stood and straightened his suit.

"Don't think I feel up to more paperwork tonight, sir," he said flippantly. Then, on impulse, he leaned down and pressed his lips very lightly to Jack's forehead. "Just so you know," he murmured, "I forgive you."

Then he left, not hurrying but definitely flustered, before either of them could work out exactly how much that meant.

_~fin~_

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_AN: Once again, attack of the feral plotbunny. I always thought that the team overreacted to what Jack had to do: so this is a portrayal of the one person who did understand. It ended up more confused than it was in my head, but I kind of like it - these characters were probably at least a little confused, after all. Feel free to let me know what you think :)_


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